


(ENG) Magicae Automata

by Vanhalla



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cyberpunk, Gen, Government Conspiracy, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25703731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanhalla/pseuds/Vanhalla
Summary: In 2082, in the Québec republic, there's a young cyborg man who doesn't remember his life before. He doesn't remember his family or friends, or what caused the loss of his limbs. All he knows are these three things: his name is Caleb Beaupassant, he is an engineer, and he knows how to create electricity with his hands.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)





	(ENG) Magicae Automata

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Magicae Automata](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21759652) by [Vanhalla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanhalla/pseuds/Vanhalla). 



> Just a preface, because I really wanna make this clear, to anyone reading this who hasn't read the original, how I feel about this.
> 
> THIS IS A TRANSLATION  
> I will NOT make myself any clearer.  
> I don't want ANYONE to think the English version is the original, or better than the original.  
> And to be fair...  
> I hate this translation.  
> I hate that I had to translate it.  
> Part of the charm of the original was that it was in french. The way they talked, theirs unique swears, the whole fact that this takes place in a sovereign Québec republic... It all tied in with the language.  
> Translating this is torture. It feels like I'm removing a part of the story itself by changing the language. To me, the English version feels dull, and boring. It's just something I'm making because I have plenty of friends who don't speak french, and there's no other way for me to show the story to them, than to translate it.  
> But to me... This is like an anime dub.  
> I don't want this to become more praised or popular than the original. It would break my heart.  
> So please.  
> For my sake... don't ignore the origins of it.

The cacophonic ringing of his Gaobi phone startled Caleb when it rang in the motel room where he was sleeping.

He quickly got up from the pillow, where his head was resting, his long, messy brown hair following him with the movement, and falling to his forehead as he yawned and reached for his phone, still ringing. 

As he opened his eyes, the bright green neon lights in the dark room of the motel dazzled him, and he held out a hand to his eyes, just long enough to get used to the unsettling lighting of the worn down room.

He pushed a strand of hair out of his forehead, pressing the button on the phone to answer, knowing what was waiting for him at the other end of the line, and bringing the device to his ear.

"Yes?" He said in a sleepy voice, pulling a robotic arm out from under the blankets to scratch his back, the artificial joints squeaking a bit with the movement.

"Hi, is this Caleb Beaupassant?" An unfamiliar male voice asked, sounding nervous and stressed. 

"Yes, yes, this is me." Caleb replied sleepily, dragging himself out of bed and to his duffle bag. He took out some clothes, put them on the mattress, and sat down next to them. "What's going on," he asked, passing robotic legs down his pants, the mechanism rolling gently inside. 

"We need a repairman. Our E-Canine is broken, and the local engineer is unable to repair it, but we heard about..." High-pitched, angered screams could be heard very faintly in the background, followed by a shard of broken glass. The man whimpered softly, and then cleared his throat. "A-anyways, we live in the 450 block near the bridge, so…"

"Yep. You can just send me the address, and I'll be on my way." Cut Caleb, a little impatient, putting his organic arm up his sweater sleeve. He stuck his tongue through the hole of the scar on his lip, and looked at the clock on the bedside table.  _ It was half past five in the morning. _ Caleb was certainly not an early riser, so it was normal for him to be quite cranky. Especially with all the furious howling noises in the background, that gave him goose bumps.  _ "What kind of crazy family am I going to end up in...?" _

"Yes, yes, my goodness, thank you very much, young man!"

Caleb nodded his head in agreement, then quickly hung up. He sighed, yawned again, then got up and walked to the bathroom.

After washing, he finished getting dressed, took his coat, goggles, and bag, and walked out of the room.

He walked to his motorcycle, climbed on it and started it, the roar of the engine making him smile.  _ "Ahhh, I love hearing that noise..." _ he thought, grabbing his glasses and sliding them over his face, then grabbed his helmet, still hanging from the handlebars, before he started riding.

Luckily he was in city 449, adjacent to 450, otherwise, if it had turned out that the residents lived, for example, in the cities in the 500s or 300s, his trip would probably have taken him too long, and he would probably have turned down the offer. After all, even though he was very happy to fix machines, he wasn't really in the mood for a long trip right now, no matter how much money was promised (except, perhaps, if it was several millions).

The grayish landscape of a misty morning parted before his eyes, the few signs and posters sometimes cutting through the low clouds of mist with their fluorescent lights. A sound echoed from inside the motorcycle, and Caleb slid his hand through an invisible screen, with inscriptions materializing in front of him. "Well, here they are, the coordinates," he whispered, his eyes quickly passing through the text before pushing him aside to make a turn in the road.

Caleb drove past a large bridge, still illuminated as it probably was the night before, then turned left, and parked in front of the nearest house, turning off his motorcycle's engine. This house was rather large, at least two stories tall, indicating that the residents were probably quite wealthy. Caleb took off his glasses and put his helmet on the motorcycle, took a deep breath, then grabbed his bag, adjusted it to his shoulders, and walked towards the house.

He rang the doorbell, which opened only seconds later, as if the owners were already waiting for him at the entrance. A lady in her early thirties, probably the wife of the man who had called judging by the golden ring she was wearing on her ring finger, was standing in the door frame, with a happy face that seemed a little forced.  _ "And terrifying..." _ Caleb thought, staring at her for a few moments before going into the house, the lady following him closely. 

"Okay. Where's the dog?" Caleb asked at once, taking the time to look around the house...  _ No matter what the family situation was, Caleb had to admit, they had a rather... peculiar style.  _

The house looked pretty old, with an egg-white ceiling, powder-pink walls with off-white stripes, hand-painted flowers and plants, and a khaki-green carpet, but the furniture looked recent, all white or black, metallic, shiny and shiny, flashing, as if it were brand new.

"He's here, follow me." The lady led Caleb to the kitchen, where a small dog bed was set up next to the refrigerator, with a smooth, all-white, plastic doggy in it, lying down, looking like nothing. Caleb and the lady crouched down in front of the robot, and Caleb stared at it a little, placing his bag beside him.

"He stopped moving at least a week ago. We asked everyone around, but no one's been able to fix it." 

"And then you heard about me, right?" Caleb asked, taking the dog in his hands and turning it around.

The lady turned to him, looking sad and miserable.  _ She was a strange woman, that one. As long as he didn't have to spend too much time here… _

"Yes. How much will I have to pay you?" These words came out of her mouth as if she was talking about a murder, in a tone of voice disgusted but full of sadness and false hope. "He was the favorite robot of our two children, you know..." she added afterwards, as if she wanted him to show some sympathy.

"At least a hundred dollars, but I'll check back later for specifics. Depends on the condition of the dog and how long it takes me to fix it." Caleb replied, still examining the dog, rolling his eyes in his head as he imagined the lady's angry face, who he heard loudly sighing beside him.  _ "If you didn't want to pay, you shouldn't have called me, jesus..." _ Caleb thought, a little discouraged.

"Well, I'm going to get to work, so if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to be alone. I don't work so well with people watching," he said afterwards, putting the dog back to bed and turning to the lady again. She nodded, then got up, and walked to the kitchen exit door, closing it behind her.

Caleb turned to his bag, and took out his tools, then slipped his glasses over his nose, his work gloves over his hands, and began to work.

Shouts were heard outside, just like the ones he had heard on the phone, and Caleb ignored them, hoping that this woman from hell wouldn't come back to see him while he worked.  _ "Damn, I feel bad for the kids," _ he thought as he continued to examine the dog.

After twenty minutes, he understood what was happening with the robot. There had been a short circuit in the central power supply core, which had caused all the mechanisms to stop. Since there was no way to make it work, or to replace it without breaking the robot definitively, Caleb guessed that his predecessors had probably left it there. The young man smiled, and then pulled on the glove protecting his organic hand. He threaded his pinkie through the wires and mechanisms as best he could, then concentrated, and smiled even more when he felt a tingling in his fingertip, which spread through the machine. 

During the process, another loud noise was heard outside the kitchen. He heard voices, the woman from earlier, shouting at the top of her voice, and the man who had called, with a lower voice. Then another one, thin and trembling, probably that of one of the two children, which sounded as if it was trying to stop them.

Then, the little tingling of the finger spread quickly, going up to his legs, just at the end of his pulpit thighs, to the alliance of the metal and the skin, which surprised him. But Caleb ignored it for now, because he was a little more worried about the family at the moment. He'll take care of it back at the motel.

Quickly, he removed his finger, and closed the robot's belly, before putting away his tools, gloves, and glasses, and turning the dog back on. The robot stood up, shook, and barked a few times. Caleb then walked to the door, bag on his back, with the dog following him like his shadow before hurtling down the corridor outside the kitchen, barking happily.  _ And then he realized that walking was strangely painful _ .

A man coming out of another room, probably the one who had called Caleb this morning, after seeing the dog and flattering him, approached the engineer and smiled at him. He had a slightly nervous look in his eyes, a slow and uncertain pace, hair that had surely once been licked now slightly in a mess, and a pale face, hollowed out by stress wrinkles, which went well with his voice heard earlier. Caleb shook his hand.  _ That hand was shaking a little _ , Caleb noticed. "Thank you, thank you very much. How much do I owe you??" the man asked, in a grateful, but still nervous tone. Caleb smiled nicely at him, even though he himself was a little tense from the screams he'd heard earlier and the pain in his legs. "One hundred dollars, right on the nose. Took me less time than I expected, so..."

The man stuck his hand in his pocket quickly, then took out a few bucks. "Y-yeah, I think that's enough."

Caleb took them and counted them, realizing there were a few more. "Oh, you gave an extra ten, I think."

The man sighed and shook his head. "No, it's alright. Let's just call it a little gift of forgiveness, for..." He pointed to the room where he came out of his chin. "For this, you see?"

Caleb nodded, assuming he was talking about the screams, then tucked the money in his pocket.

"You're lucky to have a family like this," he said, half-serious, half-sarcastic, thinking of the woman he'd met earlier.

The man laughed sadly. "Heh, yeah. That's... that could be better, frankly." He looked up at Caleb, guessing the origin of the commentary. "Rough childhood, or...?"

It was Caleb's turn to laugh sadly. He ran his hand through his hair, and looked at one of the kids, a little boy, about seven years old, playing with the robot. "You could say that. When I lost my arm, I lost my memory, and I lost my family. I have no idea what my childhood was really like," he said.

Caleb knew exactly what followed that sentence. And it was, as he predicted, this reaction followed. The man looked surprised, then confused, then sorry. He sighed, and then smiled. "Oh. I'm sorry," he said. "Well, I hope you find them one day... your memories, and your parents too, I mean."

The little boy walked up to the two men, and pulled at Caleb's coat to get his attention. "Sir, sir, if you fixed my dog, can you fix my mommy?"

Caleb, a little surprised by the sudden question, raised his eyebrows, frowned, and shook his head. "No, sorry, kid. Humans are not my department." He ruffled his hair with his artificial hand, then walked to the door. "But that's what life's all about, isn't it? Sometimes... it's hard, but you have to get used to it." He added, turning the handle. Before he could wait for anything in return, he left the house and closed the door behind him. He froze there for a few moments, not quite sure if it was the right thing to say.  _ But, at the same time, someone had to teach that boy. _

He got on his motorbike, slipped his glasses over his eyes and his helmet over his head again, and drove off.

It was only as he started driving that he realized that the line between his legs and his actual thighs was starting to hurt him really badly, more than the little tingling he had felt earlier. A pain that only got worse with each passing minute.  _ He couldn't wait to get home as soon as possible... _

Once back at the motel, he rushed to his room and undressed. He grunted in pain, avoiding touching the artificial part with his left hand, for fear that the third artificial limb would also start to hurt. Quickly, he grabbed some tools, and untied his legs, groaning silently with the pain of the metal that was tearing off his burning skin, the limbs falling to the carpeted floor, landing with a soft thud. The pain seemed less intense now, and at the same time it was as if both ends of his thigh stumps were numb, but on fire. On closer inspection, he saw that his legs really looked burnt, not too much, but just enough, reddish, as if boiling water had fallen on the pulpit, just for a moment, but enough to leave marks on his skin, already covered with scars from a past unknown to him. Caleb sighed, and dragged himself to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and lifting himself over the dirty, brown, stained sink counter. He turned on the cold water faucet, which came out of the hole in jerky, icy drops flying out on Caleb's hand and making him shiver, then became warmer, and Caleb wet the towel, before gently patting his wounds with the warm end.  _ It must have been a long time since he'd used that much energy _ .

The power core of the dog had asked for him more than what he usually used in his repairs. He did not often use more than 2% of his capacity, for fear of overheating or overloading his artificial limbs and injuring himself afterwards.  _ And, as he predicted, that's exactly what happened _ . "Fuckin' hell, why on earth..." Caleb grumbled, staring at his stumps hanging over the counter. "You can't just grow back and make my life easier, can you?" He exclaimed, throwing the towel against the opposite wall. Noticing his impulsive gesture, he sighed and rolled his eyes, before stepping off the counter. Luckily he had strong arms, otherwise he would have been in trouble. He dragged himself to the towel, put it in his mouth to go back to the sink and climb up on the counter, then put it in the sink. He whimpered a little, and closed his eyes.

_ His first memory was of the alley. A dark, stinking place, with garbage bags and lots of broken or faulty machines. His remaining joints were hurting, and he was having trouble seeing clearly. And then he realized he knew nothing except his name, his profession, and his... ability. _

_ And then the shock he had when he saw his left hand, cold, without pain or sensation, whitish-grey, with little black spuds as fingers, replacing what should have been a uniform beige colour, smooth, supple skin. Maybe he always had that, but deep down inside, something was wrong. And why had he lost his memories? _

Caleb only realized that he had fallen asleep when he was woken up by a sharp pain in his head, which made him swear loudly. He had fallen off the sink, which he noticed when he opened his eyes and saw himself on the floor, and understood had probably hit his head on the tile floor. Caleb grunted, blinking a little, and then dragged himself out of the bathroom and back to bed.  _ If he had to sleep, at least it would be better to do it in bed. _

He went back to sleep almost immediately. 

When he woke up again, he was happy to see that the pain in his legs was gone, although unfortunately the pain on his head was still there.

He looked at the clock on the bedside table and grumbled at the time. 10:35. He would have to go out and have lunch.

Caleb got up, put on his clothes, and took his coat and glasses.  _ He never left without them, no matter whether he needed them or not _ . It was kind of like a cuddly toy, in a way.  _ Something that was dear to him, something that comforted him. _

He set off towards the city. He remembered that last night when he got there, he saw a nice little restaurant.  _ Maybe he could eat there?  _ They served Italian-German food there, if he remembered correctly. He had never eaten it before, but the idea of spaghetti with sausage and tomato sauce was already making him salivate.  _ It was a dish that just sounded delicious. _

He arrived at the restaurant, picked a place by the window and looked around. The place looked rather empty, probably because it was still early, but it was still very beautiful. The walls were made of old bricks, reddish and yellowish in dusty tones. There were plants and flowers on the ceiling, supported by a kind of fence. Some of these plants criss-crossed the walls, going up and down the bricks in beautiful zigzags, and some flowers and stems hung from below the grid, as if to imitate the paper lamps hanging from the ceiling all over the room. The tables, although empty, were all very pretty, including his own. They were made of polished wood, perhaps oak or fir. On the table were white tablecloths, with fine lace all around. The silver utensils, placed on top, were wrapped in red napkins, which complemented the crimson candles, still extinguished, in the middle of the tables. He took the one on his own table and sniffed it.  _ It smelled like cherries _ .

As he admired the place, he saw that the table diagonally across from his own was occupied by a well-built man and woman. They both wore dark uniforms; capes, epaulettes, tie shirts, long hair tied in ponytails, and black tattoos coming out of their rolled up sleeves. The man had a pale blue cape and an empty chest, while the woman in front of him had a navy blue cape, and a chest full of medals, which indicated that she must have been a high-ranking officer.  _ Judging by their general appearance, they were Jezebel Mages _ . Caleb swallowed, turned around, and turned his attention to the menu in front of him.  _ No time to stare, getting into trouble was the last thing he wanted right now. _

He scanned the names of dishes with his eyes on the waxed paper, looking for the dish he'd been dreaming of since he'd first seen the restaurant, then smiled, satisfied to have found it, before putting his menu on the table and waiting.

When the waitress came up to him, he ordered, then settled down a little more comfortably in his chair, and looked out the window.  _ And of course, that's when it started raining.  _

_ "Shit, I should have brought a more insulating coat..." _ he thought.

"Yeah, it isn't going to be fun to come home. I hope you find a cab!" A laugh could be heard behind Caleb, and he turned around, seeing the Mage standing right in front of him. Caleb felt a little anxious,  _ which was normal. _ The Mages never talked to civilians. Usually, at least. The man squatted down and looked at Caleb.  _ Or rather, Caleb's arm _ , which was sticking out of his rolled up coat sleeve. "Oh, it's okay, it's waterproof." He said, frowning a little.  _ What did that man want with him? _

His superior turned, probably to ask him to come back to his seat, but she had a horrified look on her face when she looked at the young man, a look that lasted only a few seconds, but just long enough for Caleb to notice.  _ Weird _ .

"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" The man asked him, turning his head slightly as if trying to get a better look at him.  _ What was the matter with him? _

"Oh, I have a pretty common face, you know..." he laughed nervously, scratching at the scar on his lip. 

The waitress arrived with Caleb's plate, and the Mage took that opportunity to sit down, as Caleb started to eat, hoping that the upper class Mage wouldn't start asking weird questions, too.

_ How could they have recognized him? He arrived in this town last night! _

Anyway, he would take care of it later, because right now all that was important was that the spaghetti was delicious.

After finishing his plate and paying, he got up and walked outside, pulling his glasses over his face as his only protection.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!"

Same voice as before.  _ "Shit, what the hell does he want again? _ " He thought as he turned around.

The Mage walked up to Caleb, and handed him a black umbrella with a fluorescent blue border.

"Here, you can use this." The man said, with a smile that looked a little sneaky, but also strangely frightened.

He hesitated.  _ Perhaps it had something to do with his amnesia?  _ But, he couldn't ask him, in case it was bad. The look of the two Mages worried him a little, perhaps it was better not to add fuel to the fire.

"No, it's all right, keep it." Caleb replied, smiling politely to the Mage, before turning around and heading back to his hotel. The man's expression fell off, but he didn't follow Caleb, and after watching him leave, closed his umbrella, and walked back to the restaurant.


End file.
